OP — Stephen King! I need to read that manifesto. I need to see you too. xoxo, l

Litlove, At least you see you’ve done that! The fixing is a bummer though, but sometimes that is Just What Must Be Done.

Somewhere in this wonderful complex that reflects your wondrous mind, is your astonishment at hearing advice that writers not use metaphors. (Or was it similes…?) Just wanted to add my own astonishment last night upon reading Stephen King’s very strong, very long, manifesto about writers not using adverbs. He says Never.

I’m not sure I subscribe to either bit, but I find myself trying it out, then learning how much harder it is and how much more rigor it takes to describe something in and of itself, without relying on the metaphor/simile/adverb context/echo. I find its kind of fun as a challenge, in case you tire of sudoku or crosswords or bidding a small slam.

–op

Yogamum — I have so much trouble with names. I’d love to hear what your character’s morphed from and then into.

Dear Marie, Just from looking around, I see that it’s so easy to get busy — to say yes to things, to be a perfectionist being two of those ways — that you don’t have much left for the things that aren’t negotiable, or you feel squeezed when you do. The answer is not to moan and to try your best to stifle the urge to volunteer. At least that’s what I try to do. In the end, spaces of time open up — I’m about to head into one, in fact. Yay.

TJ– Why, thank you. That’s a lovely thing to say. I think singing is one of the most wonderful things a person can do. Choral singing, in particular, is a really powerful experience — the communal creation of beauty doesn’t occur that often and when it does it can’t help but be good for the soul.

WR — I love Grace Paley, and love her all the more for her commitment to making the world work better. Thanks for that reminder.

RR — I’m sitting here, with the window open, and it’s the loveliest Friday afternoon turning into evening. (It’s 5:00.) My favorite time of day. And in the summer, there’s something so magical about knowing that it’ll be light for hours. It feels so full of possibility. Yay for summer.

Lisa — that’s pretty much how I wrote a lot of my first novel — on the BART train from the east bay into San Francisco (lucky for me, I get off at the fourth stop after we come into the city, which makes the commute a 25 minute commute each day — that’s a lot of writing time, as long as you get a seat). it’s difficult, though, to revise on the train. I have a timeline I keep wanting to spread out, and papers on the floor and it’s just too unruly to get that on the train. So now I’m writing stories on my commute, which is fun, even if it’s not novel writing. And I think writing in that form is good for my language skills.

Courtney — it will get written — you’re totally right. Most people have to do it like that, and there’s something honorable about just keeping at it. But more than honorable, it’s fun to do when it’s going well, and worth working through when it’s going badly (because on the other side of going badly is going well again). xo

Dear Emily — You’re completely right. Enjoy those ghosts!! xo, L

Summer has begun for us here and I’m finding it a wee bit easier to stay in the “world” of my writing.

And I’m so sorry about the broken hand — ouch!

You are a very fine writer, Lily. One who can conjure up memorable detail, scene, character, story even in the ‘tossed off’ short form of blog post. Thank you! Jacques

Be patient…summer days will arrive very soon, hopefully bringing some peace and quiet with them!

Your post reminded me of a story about an author (and I wish I could remember who!) who wrote on the commuter train to and from New York City. Such small spurts of time, yet over the long haul he finished his novel — and it went on to get published and make his name! (I do wonder how he kept the details straight–must be one of those people with an insanely good memory.)